Foggy night, foggy thoughts.

Maybe in order to realize your dreams, you have to destroy them first. Maybe I could never have been here if it hadn't been for my ludicrous attempt at railroading. If I had never done it, I'd have continued to think it the greener grass on the other side of the fence. But in crushing it, utterly demolishing it, I was able to move past it. Kind of like letting go of a love you never had a chance with. The burn is still there, lingering deeply, dimly, like sparks amongst the ashes, but it will never stir aflame again. Perhaps an old wound is a better analogy, never quite healed completely, but never going to re-open again, and then one day it becomes like background noise and you stop noticing it, except in quiet moments in the darkness. Moments like now, really.

And I'd snap my fingers just now, if I was able to snap fingers, (which I am not), and say, just like that, it's gone. I'm past, I'm another me, and it's all working. Perfectly? No. But everything just fits somehow. You ever walk into a room -- a bar, a restaurant, a room in someone else's house -- and you just know it's right? The words why did it take so long are what come to mind -- but no matter, the past cannot be changed. And why change it? I wouldn't be who I am today if it were any different. So I'll take the mess, thank you, warts and all.

I can't believe this. I may actually be smiling.

I am.

Sure, there's a little sadness too, it would not be life if there wasn't. Friends seem to be searching for things though they know not what or why, and I can only help so much. They have their own journeys to make, I cannot -- should not not not! take their journeys for them. They must bump and scrape on their own and they will fail many times. And that's hard to accept. And though I am not ready for a relationship, I am profoundly lonely. I think I'd let Seth stay forever if he wanted, just so there was someone else in the house. Rather selfish of me really, he's not a pet. ("Walkies!") (I'm laughing pretty hard at that comment though I'm not drunk. Anymore. Thanksgiving cheer has worn off by now.) Of course friendship -- even a close and trusting one -- can only satisfy so much. And I don't just mean getting horny here. Who do I really open up to? Really? Other than through this passive-aggressive duck-blind thing called a blog?

But patience. And for now? A glimmer of something like happiness. Less questioning, more savoring -- there is no telling how long it will last, and it's been a long, long while.